Is it ok to say that I’m depressed?
I know it’s not, and again, this blog is not meant to be about what I think people think about me, it’s just about my things, period. But…
*sigh…
I wanted to be another one, to have an alias, especially for these situations. I need to let lots of things out, I just don’t know how. It’s anguishing. It’s killing me.
Crap. The only thing I can do at least fine and now I just can’t. God! Where have my writing gone? Probably, to the same place You took my happiness and joy for life.
Is it normal to say that I’m still mourning? Or people would find it strange, since I went through so well? People, what people think… here I go again. That’s the last of my problems right now.
Last year, I had plans. This year, I have only one: surviving with a minimal level of sanity. In other words, emerge from this Hell I’ve been living, suffering in silence, refusing to talk even to my partner for life, because I don’t know if he’s gonna get what I mean. Probably won’t. I can hardly explain to myself what my fears and angsts are. Every time I try and open my mouth, it feels like he’s going to say that I’m trying to play the same role as in the blog “Jesus me chicoteia”. He doesn’t get me. The only person who could ever get me is not here anymore, and even if she was, I would never tell her how I feel, cause she wouldn’t be able to help, since she suffered the same. We would probably just be together, cry a lot, resent and self-indulge ourselves to death.
I want to update my blogs, but I just can’t. I got stuck in Twitter, because it’s superficial enough to make my mind work on a level that it won’t freak me out with stupid nonsense thoughts. My house became a mess, cause I just can’t see the point on cleaning that hideous toilet that it’s going to be all stained in less time than the time I took to clean it. My work and my son are the only thing that keep me from being in bed all day, sleeping, getting fat and even sadder, if that’s possible. Everything is going down the drain, I’m being dragged down and down, I still wait on my Lord, but that seems not enough for me. Not that my faith is little, I believe, I swear I believe. I just have the feeling that it’s not just a matter of believing. My faith and all the faith in the world is not enough to make it be real, be true. I don’t know. I just can’t think about this anymore. I need to stop, I know this doesn’t make any difference, I know I have to live my life and be happy and seize the day and blablabla, I am conscious of that, I simply can’t stop doing it. Make it stop! I’m begging!